


Good Deed for the Day

by Sapphy



Series: A Very Unjust Christmas [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: Alcohol, Batfamily Feels, Biracial Character, Child Loss, Christmas, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female Character of Color, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hair, Harvey and Rene are bros, POV Female Character, Parent-Child Relationship, Where's Tim Drake?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/Sapphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Insurgency gather for their Christmas party, and Nick and Zatanna have a present for the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Deed for the Day

**Author's Note:**

> I angsted. Oh gods, I angsted all over my lovely happy Christmas fic. I'm really sorry guys! Maybe it's a good think I'm not posting this actually on Christmas.

Batwoman and Detective Montoya arrived just as Zatanna realised she’d forgotten to stuff the turkey.

Klarion and Teekl had arrived not long after breakfast. After a lot of wheedling and complaints, Doctor Fate had eventually grudgingly agreed to allow them into the wards, whereupon they had immediately been dispatched to collect the non-magically inclined guests.

Batwoman and her wife are in civvies, warmly wrapped up against the bitterness of a Gotham winter. They’re both smiling, pink cheeked from the chill, and Zatanna almost doesn’t recognise Batwoman. She’s so serious normally, even more so than Bruce, and it’s a shock to see her looking so human. It’s only her perfectly pale skin, stark against the vivid red of her hair, and the way her gloved fingers are tangled with those of her wife that clues Zatanna in on who she even is.

As soon as he sees that she’s spotted them, Klarion disappears again in a flash of blue light and a spine-crawling yowl from his undead cat.

She greets them, trying not to stare /too/ much at Batwoman (“call me Kate, we’re not at work now”)’s uncovered face, as she ushers them into the living room.

Bruce has set himself up there, making increasingly complicated cocktails using the fully stocked cabinet Fate had been bullied into creating for him. Selina is sprawled out on one of the uncomfortable high-backed sofas, drinking martinis and instructing Bruce, who makes a surprisingly good bartender, what to make for everyone.

John is sitting in one of the chairs, Rose sprawled out at his feet playing with Merlin. He’s drinking a cosmopolitan that Selina seemed to think would embarrass him but which he’d accepted without demur and seems to be enjoying. Zatanna smiles at the memory of him yelling at Nick about how conforming to gender roles is the least punk thing ever. She can’t remember now what the argument had actually been about, only that it had ended with her and John forcing Nick into her only dress and then fucking him until her was incoherent and apologetic.

“Come on, lazybones,” she says, leaning over the back of his chair to ruffle his hair. “Me and Alfred need a hand in the kitchen.”

“You’re not to let Alfred do too much,” Bruce says at once, looking up from the vividly green drink he’s mixing for Montoya. “He’s supposed to be taking it easy.”

“He is,” she tells him, amused by his mother-hen attitude. “That’s why I need help. Also a sea-breeze. I need a sea-breeze.”

Her dad had never really gone in for Christmas, but she’d had an eccentric and slightly alcoholic adoptive aunt who always celebrated the season by drinking pints of cranberry juice and vodka.

She swears Bruce actually smiles when he proffers her one, already made. “Constantine put the order in for you.”

She grins at John, touched that he’d remembered. The three of them had never celebrated Christmas. John didn’t have any good memories of his childhood, Zatanna’s father had never gone in for traditional celebrations, and what little she’d ever been able to gather about Nick’s childhood involved him running away from a strictly religious family after one of them walked in on him and a boy. One of them had generally conjured some kind of were lights, and she’d made pints of sea-breezes, but that had been the extent of their celebrations.

John tosses back the last mouthful of his Cosmo and heaves himself upright. “Not bad, Batsy, but next time I want something with an umbrella in it.”

“Ooooh,” Rose says, sitting up. “Me too. I want umbrella drinks!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce says. He’s half smiling, and between that and the Christmas jumper, he doesn’t look nearly as terrifying as he usually does.

“Champion. Okay Zee, one occultist and one eight-and-a-half year old reporting for duty. What do you need us to do?”

“Make the stuffing. I completely forgot, but Alfred says it’s okay, cornbread stuffing is better if you bake it anyway.”

“Can do. Assuming you have a recipe, since I have no idea what cornbread stuffing is.”

“You don’t know /anything/ daddy,” Rose says scathingly. “Cornbread stuffing’s the best.”

“If you say so, sweetheart. You can show me how to make it, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Zatanna sets them up at the large kitchen table, with Alfred’s handwritten recipe and a big mixing bowl. Alfred sets out the ingredients they’ll need, along with a set of measuring cups, and they begin work, John handling chopping things while Rose handles the measuring. Really cornbread stuffing is a thanksgiving thing, but it’s not something Zee often gets to eat, and they hadn’t got to have a thanksgiving this year, and Alfred had just smiled and written out his recipe when she’d said so, so they’re having it.

“What’s left, Alfred?” Zatanna asks. John is singing softly, something angry and punk with a lot of swearing. After a couple of lines Rose joins in, bobbing her head to the beat and (hopefully) not understanding the words.

“Well, the turkey is in the oven, the potatoes are boiling, Miss Rose and her father are making the stuffing. The veggies are prepared, and we can’t start making gravy until the turkey is done. Just desert left to make.”

“Well, I hear your pies are to die for. Just tell me what needs doing.”

Alfred gets her to roll out the pastry while he starts on the fillings. He says he’s never cooked on a coal range before, but he seems to be adapting remarkably well, sticking his hand into the oven the test the temperature and fiddling with the baffles when he finds it too hot.

“Zee, we’ve finished,” Rose says proudly. “I’ve measured everything extra carefully.”

Zee’s heart swells with love at the pride on the little girl’s face. “That looks great,” she tells her.

Alfred peers into the bowl. “Superbly done, Miss Rose. Miss Zatanna, if you would find a dish for the young lady, we can put this into the oven.”

Zatanna fetches a medium sized baking dish from one of the cupboards, wondering how they’re going to fit everything into the oven. The range is large, but the turkey is enormous (superheroes tend to have big appetites). Alfred apparently reads her mind, because he smiles at her.

“You’d be amazed how much food you can fit into one oven,” he says. “Having catered for Master Bruce and his boys, and the girls as well, who have not inconsiderable appetites themselves, I can assure you it will be fine.”

“Thanks Alfred. I’ve never done Christmas before, not properly.”

“Well then you’re doing an excellent job. Now go and enjoy yourself for a bit, you’ve been in the kitchen all day and this is meant to be a holiday.”

“It’s a holiday for you too Alfred, I can’t leave you to do everything by yourself.”

“Of course not. Send in Master Bruce, he always likes to help with Christmas dinner. No doubt Miss Kyle can take over preparing the drinks.” As he speaks there’s a flash of blue light and the sound of Teekl’s unearthly yowl. “There, see, more guests have arrived. Now go and great them like a good hostess.”

John catches her elbow. “Come on Zee, if you don’t I’ll have to host and we all know what a terrible idea that would be. Let Alfred and Bats have some family time.”

She gives in, but she does give Alfred a quick hug before she leaves. At the kitchen door Rose tugs her hand. “You’re still wearing your apron, Zee,” she whispers.

John unties it for her, hands lingering at the small of her back in a way that makes her body flush with sudden warmth. She forgets, sometimes for months at a time, that as well as being magically married to him, she fancies the hell out of John, and then it creeps up on her at unexpected moments.

“Come on gorgeous,” he says, his voice low and husky in her ear. “Let’s go find a drink.”

“With umbrellas in it!” Rose exclaims, completely ruining the mood they’d been building.

Zee laughs. “All the umbrellas,” she agrees.

Klarion and Teekl are already gone again, but Black Lightning is standing in the lobby, wearing his full superhero outfit and looking slightly lost.

“Jeff,” Zee exclaims, hugging him. “What perfect timing. I have no idea how to do Rose’s hair for her, and I hoped you could give me a lesson before the party really gets going.”

“Well sure!” He smiles warmly at Rose. “My youngest used to have hair just like yours, and she made sure I knew how to do it properly. Shall we go, before us grown-ups start drinking and forget?”

Rose takes his hand like she’s known him all her life, telling him excitedly about all the things she’d got in her stocking as she tows him along, Zatanna and John trailing behind.  
John leans on the doorjamb of Rose's bedroom grinning at them while Jeff shows Zatanna how to twist stray hairs into the locks and roll them between her palms to tighten them. He trims the ends with some nail scissors, neatening them up where inattention has let them grow straggly.

“I can put it up for you, if you like,” Jeff offers, when her locks are looking tidy again.

“Yes please!” Rose says excitedly, and sits as still as she can (which isn’t very) while Jeff twists a few of the dreads into a knot at the back of her head.

“There you go,” he says, sitting back and smiling. “All tidy.”

John, whose been silent throughout the lesson, just watching the three of them with a small smile, prompts gently, “What do you say, princess?”

“Thank you Mr Lightning,” Rose says obediently.

Jeff laughs. “You’re welcome kiddo. Anytime you need hair tips, you know where to find me.”

Rose bounces off the bed and grabs John’s hand. “Come on daddy, I want to show Harley my hair!”

John allows himself to be lead off, and Zatanna rises to follow them, but stops when Jeff lays a hand on her arm. “That was a good thing you just did,” he says softly. “I’ve seen a lot of black kids with white parents, and most of them try and make their kids white. It’s a rare thing to see someone take the trouble to actually learn about their kids culture like you are.”

Zatanna blushes. “It was what Rose wanted,” she says. “And anyway, I’m not her parent.”

“Constantine and the little girl would disagree,” Jeff says softly. “Take it from me, I know parents and you are one.”

She feels her heart skip a beat with happiness. She can’t imagine loving a biological child more than she loves Rose, but she knows all too well she’s not ideal mom material, and her and John aren’t exactly the perfect loving hetero couple parents are supposed to be. “Me and John aren’t exactly what you’d call a couple,” she says doubtfully.

“So?” Jeff asks. “Me and Lynn got divorces when the kids were pretty young, doesn’t mean we’re not their parents. ‘Nissa and Jen go to school in metropolis, they’ve got friends with same sex parents, and single parents, and foster parents. Hell, I’m pretty sure one of them’s got a supervillain for a mom. It doesn’t matter who you are, or whether you’re married. All that matters is that you love your kid. And I can see that you love Rose a lot.”

Zatanna smiles. “Thanks Jeff. That does actually make me feel a bit better. I never expected to have a kid, you know? So suddenly gaining an eight year old in the middle of a superpowered civil war has come as a bit of a shock. You’re right though, I love her to bits.”

“Well then, what did I say? You’re a mom!”

Zatanna blushes again, and quickly changes the subject. “Will you be seeing your girls this Christmas?”

Jeff looks dejected. “No. They always spend Christmas day with their mom, anyway, but I generally see them the day after. But now I can’t risk it, I’m not as high profile as some of you, but Supes knows I’m part of the insurgency, and I can’t risk him going near them.” He shrugs. “I’d rather know they were safe, but I miss them.”

Zatanna makes a vague sympathetic noise, her mind already churning with an idea that’s just come to her.

Downstairs, she pulls John to one side (amused to see that he’s got his umbrella drink, something nauseatingly vivid green with lots of ice) and asks, “do you think with a combination of pyromancy, psychic imaging and the compass of true north, we could send messages to people?”

“Only if they’ve got fireplaces,” he says, then what she’s said catches up with him. “Who are you sending messages to? The resistance are all here.”

“Jeff won’t get to speak to his kids this Christmas. He doesn’t want to risk phoning or visiting because of Superman. I thought we might be able to work something out by magic. And I bet he’s not the only one of the resistance with people he’s missing. I thought maybe we could work out a way to send messages for everyone. As a Christmas present.”

“We said no presents,” he points out, but he looks thoughtful in a way that suggests to her he’s working out the logistics as they speak.

“It’ll build moral,” she says, raising her voice to be heard over Teekl’s unearthly yowling as Klarion arrives back with his next load of passengers. “Christ does that animal have to make that noise?!”

“He’s not an animal,” Klarion’s slightly offended voice floated in from the hallway. “And he always makes that noise when we teleport, unless we’re going somewhere very secret.”

John laughs. “There’s no point trying to reason with necromancers Zee, you should know that by now.”

She really should, Klarion’s alright, but he’s still a necromancer and a Witchman (well, witchboy) so getting any kind of cooperation out of him is like getting blood from a stone. She has no idea what history he has with John that makes him so inclined to be obedient, and knowing Witchman magic, she doesn’t want to know.

Zatanna goes to greet the latest arrivals, who turn out to be Commissioner Gordon and his daughter, whose wheelchair has been thoroughly tinselled, and an amused looking Huntress, who’s petting Teekl, either unaware that the thing is closer to a demon than a cat, or showing astonishing levels of stupid bravado. Teekl is making a noise that, were he an actual cat, would be called a purr.

“Your last deliveries, madam,” Klarion says, bowing to her. “And it has come to my attention that it is customary to wish people well at this festival, which I failed to do this morrow. So felicitations and best wishes to you on the day of your strange pagan revelries.”

Despite herself, Zatanna smiles. “Most people just say ‘happy Christmas,’” she tells him.

“Well then, that too,” Klarion says agreeably.

“Catwoman’s mixing drinks,” John says, smirking at the Witchboy. “Come through everyone. None of you are driving, so I think it’s only fair that we all get rat-arsed.”

Rose and Harley are sitting on the floor together, playing with Merlin, Rose sipping a drink with no less than three umbrellas in it. When Zatanna shoots the glass a worried look Selina says, “A Shirley Temple. I might be irresponsible, but I do not want to have to deal with a drunk eight year old.”

Zatanna smiles at her, and Selina does her best not to look pleased. It’s cute, and Zatanna thinks she can see what Bruce sees in the woman. (With any other men, it would be the cleavage and the leather, but she’s known Bruce a long time, and he’s the only male member of the JLA who’s never ogled her legs or tried to look down her top, so she’s pretty sure it’s Selina’s personality, not her body, that’s attracted him.

While Selina sorts everyone out with drinks (another Shirley Temple for Barbara Gordon, who says she’s not much of a drinker, a whiskey for the Commissioner and an appletini for Huntress, who looks defiant and a little bit embarrassed about it) Zatanna and John discuss the logistics of untraceable magical messages.

Pyromancy is dismissed, since it would rely on the recipients being somewhere with a fireplace, and after some discussion they decide the compass of true north has far too much potential to go embarrassingly wrong. They work out a combination of psychic imaging and astral projection that should work, with Zatanna providing the power and John doing the steering, and Klarion butts in with a few suggestions of his own, mostly unhelpful since his magic works nothing like either of theirs. They test out the spell by sending a message to Alfred in the kitchen, informing them of their idea, and a few moments later he and Bruce appear at the door, Alfred wiping his hands on an apron and beaming.

“I think that’s a very nice idea, Miss Zatanna,” he says approvingly. “Very nice indeed.”

“Do we need to know where the recipient is?” Bruce asks, and Zatanna wonders if he’s thinking of Red Robin, his lost child. Maybe the reason he won’t talk about him even with Selina is that he genuinely doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead.

“It would help if they were on this planet,” Zatanna says. “And whatever Klarion says, we’re not sending messages to the dead. But if they’re alive and on earth, we can send them a message wherever they are. We think. We only just invented the spell, so I can’t guarantee, but the theory’s sound.”

“What this?” the Commissioner asks, coming over and shaking Bruce by the hand.

“Constantine and Zatanna think they’ve worked out an untraceable way for us to send Christmas messages to loved ones,” Bruce says.

“Oh!” Barbara Gordon looks delighted. “What a lovely idea!”

“Have you got anyone you want to contact?” Zatanna asks her.

“No. I sent all my Christmas messages electronically. My channels aren’t untraceable, but they’re pretty close and I didn’t send anything important. And I sent a card to my brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Zatanna says, politely.

“He’s in Arkham,” the Commissioner says shortly. “But I’m sure everyone else will want to take you up on the offer.”

They do the messages one at a time, recording them psychically and then using the senders emotional link to their loved ones to pinpoint a location to send it too.

Jeff records his first, standing in the middle of the room clutching his drunk and looking awkward talking to no one. “Hey baby girls,” he begins, stopping to cough uncomfortable. “I can’t see you, but I’ve got a friend says they can make it you see this. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I miss you like crazy, and I’m coming home to you just as soon as you can. You know I wouldn’t leave you unless it was really important, and it is. I’m helping to save lives. Anissa, look after your sister. Jen, you mind her, especially about your powers. I love you both so much, and I miss you.” There’s tears in his eyes now, and his voice is quivering. “I’ll see you as soon as I can. Merry Christmas.”

Sending the message is easy, Jeff knows where his daughters will be, and his mental imagine of them gathered around the Christmas tree in their mom’s house is so strong it takes barely more than a push to send the message. They should receive it as a sort of hologram, and in theory it won’t play its message until the intended recipients are looking at it. But with security so tight, they’ve no way of know for sure that it worked. They can only hope.

“Me next,” Harley says, bouncing to her feet. “I wanna send a message to my d… niece. To my niece.”

Zatanna can’t imagine Harley having a sister, there’s something about her that screams only child, but she dutifully starts up the spell, trusting that if this is some kind of ruse, Bruce will spot it.

“Lucy, it’s me honey. I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a long time, but don’t worry, I’m not in prison. I’m actually being one of the good guys, helping people, like you wanted. I haven’t been able to come and see you, because the bad guys I’m fighting might try and hurt you, and I couldn’t bear for anything bad to happen to you.” There’s an emotion in Harley’s voice that Zatanna recognises, and she wonders if Bruce knows Harley has a child. She’s not going to say anything, it’s Harley’s secret to keep, but she does wonder how many other people have spotted that note of maternal love and worry in Harley’s voice. “I miss you loads and loads, and I promise I’ll come and see you as soon as I can. I might even get to bring my new friend Rose to visit. She’s eight, and she likes ballerinas too, and she can do real magic. Be good honey. I love you.”

The imagine Zatanna gets from Harley’s mind while she’s locating a destination for the message is of a girl of three or four, dressed in a pink tutu and a yellow hard hat, dancing in the awkward stiff-legged way of toddlers. She’s got blond hair and vividly green eyes that makes Zatanna wonder about the child’s father.

“Um…” Rene Montoya stands up, fingers slipping out of Batwoman’s grasp, and says, “I’ve got… sort of an odd one. If you don’t mind.” The words are addressed to Nick and Zatanna, but she’s looking at Bruce, like she’s afraid he’s going to stop her, and it’s him rather than they who nod permission.

“Okay, erm, Harvey. Hi, it’s me, Rene. I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit you for a long time. I guess you know why, news travels fast in Arkham. The world’s pretty much going to shit right now, but I want you to remember that you can be a good person. Just because most of the heroes are acting worse than you Arkhamites, that doesn’t mean you get to give up on getting better. You were doing so well, and I expect to see some serious progress when this is all over and I can visit again, yeah?”

The image this time is almost shocking enough to make Zatanna loose her focus, Two-Face grinning in Montoya’s mind, but John’s magic is there, steady and implacable to catch her and help her get control again. She’d forgotten before this Christmas how much she enjoys doing magic with John, how easily and naturally their very different styles fit together and complement one another. Her type of instinctual inherent magic doesn’t usually play well with John’s type of self-taught magic, but their soul-bond and years of practise means their powers mesh together effortlessly, complimenting and contrasting perfectly.

“I wanna send a message to Holly,” Rose decides. “She’s my best friend.” She waits for John’s approval before she actually begins. “Hi Holly. It’s Rose. I’m okay, my dad came to get me after… after the house got all destroyed. Not Steve, my other dad. I’m living with him now, a long way away, so that’s why I can’t visit.” Zatanna smiles slightly at the white lie, reflecting that good as she is, there’s no doubt that Rose is her father’s daughter. “I miss you, and everyone at school, but my dad’s really nice, and so’s his wife, and I’m happy, so you don’t have to worry.”

She stops, nodding regally to indicate her message is ended, and Zatanna feels a rush of pride at being described as very nice, and knows John’s feeling the same, even as they both feel weird about being described as married.

Bruce goes last, somewhat reluctantly, and when he starts speaking, she sees why. His voice is fully of barely restrained emotion and unshed tears, and it’s scary and deeply moving to hear someone normally so restrained so close to breaking. “Tim. I don’t know if this will reach you, but if it does, I want you to know, I haven’t given up on you. I haven’t had much time, but I’ve never stopping looking. I’ve haven’t found you yet, but all that proves it that I taught you well, so I’m not giving up hope that you’re out there somewhere. You always did have a natural talent for this. I think, one day, you’ll make a great Batman.

“You probably heard, but Dick’s… Dick’s dead. And Damien has joined superman’s regime. I need you back, not just as Robin, but as my son. Without…” his words trail off into a quiet sob. “I’ve lost so much of my family. Please, just contact me if you can. There’s place in the Insurgency waiting for you when you’re ready. We could use you.

“They said on the news he was in Metropolis, but Jason’s cheated death before so… So if you see him, tell him the same goes for him. I want my boys back with me, where I can keep an eye on you. I miss you.” The sobs begin in earnest then, and Bruce turns away, hiding his face in his arm. The whole room in silent, none of them wanting to intrude on their leaders grief, not knowing how to deal with this rare show of weakness, when Alfred steps up, wraps an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, and takes over speaking for him.

“Master Tim? This is Alfred. I would just like to add that I also miss you a great deal, and look forward to seeing you again. I know you would only stay away so long because you  
had too, but there’s a safe place here, for you and Master Jason, if you want it. And I’m sure you’ve forgotten, but it’s Christmas today, so do try and have some kind of celebration. Stay safe, my boy.” Then he nods to Zatanna, and she cuts off the recording, focussing her power on finding a karmic signature to send the message to.

She’s afraid at first that the boy she sees in Bruce’s mind, laughing and confident and viewed with the sort of unconditional love she hadn’t known Bruce was capable of, won’t show up, that she’ll have to tell Bruce he’s lost another son, but she finds something, faint but unmistakably the same person Bruce is thinking of, and she almost laughs with relief as they send the message.

“He’s alive,” Constantine says, before she can. “The message wouldn’t have gone otherwise. Wherever he is, your son’s alive.”

Bruce lets out this kind of gasping sob, like this news it just too much for him to process, and Alfred and Selina steer him to a sofa and gently push him back into it. Alfred wraps his arms around the large man and pulls him into a tight embrace, holding him and shushing him like he’s still the child Alfred had raised.

Selina fetches a glass of something alcoholic and forces it into Bruce’s had, glaring until he drinks it. “I don’t care if you don’t drink, this is medicinal. Best treatment for shock.”

He drinks it, and does look a little better. It’s unspeakable odd seeing the face behind the mask tear stained (honestly, Zatanna isn’t sure why he’s even still wearing the mask, since his identity has been published online for everyone to see, but she supposes it’s a comfort thing. It would probably be horribly weird for him to be unmasked around ex members of the JLA or the Gotham PD.

“Well that’s my good deed for the day,” John says firmly, pulling Zatanna back so she’s leaning against him, his arm looped casually around her waist. “Now I’m going to get spectacularly drunk.”


End file.
